London's Rain or The Loving Strangers

London's rain knows no cycles:

Neither water nor time.

It is a nuisance, a joy divine;

An occurrence, maybe casual,

Certainly inevitable—

Like eyes meeting

Amid the flashing lights of the metro...

Alas, the loving strangers cannot stop:

They are meant to walk into puddles,

To engrave their routine paths.

For rain knows no bounds:

Neither water nor time.

So much so that the thrill of a raindrop,

Of two eyes meeting,

Is known to last for infinity.

by Jason R. Forbus

to London, city cursed with magic; scribbled on a piece of paper and faithfully transcribed on April 18, 2013.